


At the Edge of the World

by darnedchild



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-22 09:44:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3724264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darnedchild/pseuds/darnedchild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say you don't know what you've got until it's gone. Hermione's always been a smart woman; can she figure it what she's about to lose before it is too late?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

  
  


**Part One**

“I’m sorry I missed it, Mum.” Hermione Granger rolled her eyes as she finished pouring a small measure of white wine into her glass. “Sounds as if you guys had fun.”

Her mother’s voice continued to gush through the phone, describing a weekend trip to the vineyards, part of the “family” vacation that Hermione had been unable to attend. To make matters worse, Hermione’s cousin had brought his entire household, right down to both obscenely adorable tykes and a collie named Lucy, to spend the entire week visiting their adoring Auntie and Uncle Granger. In comparison to such a shining example of familial devotion, Hermione's vague excuse of work commitments had been met with Monica Granger’s very vocal disappointment. 

And now Hermione was paying the price.

“I’m trying it now,” she assured her mother, lifting the glass to her lips and taking a cautious sip. A grimace twisted her features almost immediately, and Hermione looked longingly toward the sink all the way across the kitchen. With effort she forced herself to swallow the wine, tucking the cordless phone between her ear and shoulder so that she could set the glass on the counter and quickly shove the cork back into the bottle. 

“Oh, yeah, it’s very ...“ Thankfully there was no need to continue searching for a polite way to describe the gift that had arrived earlier that day — her mother was off and running once more. 

Hermione only half-listened, offering a “Then what?” or a “Really?” when there was a pause for breath. She opened her refrigerator and shoved the bottle toward the back, pausing to pull out a can of lemonade before she shut the door with her hip. She was careful to cover the mouthpiece of the phone with her hand so that the soft sounds of the can being opened wouldn’t be heard.

One swished mouthful to get rid of the foul taste later and the rest of the can was poured into the wineglass. Hermione took another sip as she shut off the light and padded barefoot down the hall to her bedroom.

“Mum, don’t start again. I like my job.” She double-checked to make sure her alarm was set while Monica tried, once again, to convince her daughter to move back to Hemel Hempstead, find a nice young man and settle down with a family of her own. St Kilda might as well have been all the way across the world as far as Monica was concerned.

Hermione was beginning to suspect it wasn’t far enough.

“Mum, it's been six years since I moved out here; you're going to have to get used to it. It’s not as if you can’t call me whenever you feel like talking. If you and Daddy are that desperate to spend time with some children — Nathan, Irene and the twins only live an hour from your place, and you can visit them any time you want. I'm sure they would love that."

Hermione flopped down onto the unmade bed with a sigh. “I am not jealous of my cousin or his family, Mum. And no one is going to start calling me a spinster just because I turned twenty-nine without getting married.” 

Monica’s clipped reply was met with a groan as Hermione buried her face in a pillow. “Aunt Helena doesn’t count.”

-8-

St Kilda was a relatively isolated archipelago. Difficult to get to even by wizarding standards, downright impossible for Muggles on the days when the Scottish weather refused to cooperate, which was more often than not — the islands of St Kilda had been called the end of the world by more than one man.

Hermione called them home.

In the six years since she had taken the position as head of the Charms department for the Ministry's remote facility on the island of Hirta, Hermione had come to love the cold, wet mornings and the familial atmosphere that came from a community in which everyone knew everyone else.

At any given time, there were rarely more than a hundred people, nearly all of them magical, living on the island. Under the cover of civilians maintaining Hirta's old military and radio base, the Ministry of Magic had long ago leased the small complex from the National Trust for Scotland and converted the semi-modern buildings into a research and development facility.

Considering some of the more volatile accidents that she had seen over the past few years, Hermione had to agree that the Ministry had had the right idea when they decided to set up operation out in the middle of nowhere, where the occasional explosion or epidemic of speckled griffin pox would go virtually unnoticed. Even the handful of Muggles who arrived every summer to work on the restoration of the long-abandoned village seemed to chalk up any strangeness they might inadvertently witness to prolonged isolation and tricks of the mind.

Hermione sipped her coffee and ignored the progress report sitting next to her untouched lunch and the sounds of the other diners echoing through the small mess hall. 

She didn't mind the isolation; it wasn't as if they were actually cut off from the rest of the world. The phone relay wasn't the most reliable, but it worked at least seventy percent of the time. Muggle boat tours dropped off tourists to explore the village ruins for a few hours every so often — weather permitting — and a supply boat docked at Village Bay every four or five weeks. Every few months she left the island by Portkey to visit friends and family over a long weekend.

Four days in the bosom of her loved ones tended to be just long enough for Hermione. By the end of that last day, she was almost always itching to return to her tiny cottage and her lab. It hadn't always been like that; she distinctly remembered the first few months of her new job, when she had missed her parents and Ron and Harry and Ginny so badly that she'd returned to London nearly every weekend. Life off the island had a way of quickly moving on, and Hermione found that she preferred her new home and the unexpected friendships she had found there.

The door to the canteen blew open, and Hermione looked up as the most unexpected of them all wrestled against the wind to pull the heavy metal door shut behind his imposing form.

Severus Snape.

There had been rumors of his survival over the years, fueled by the inexplicable lack of a body once the smoke had cleared after that final battle at Hogwarts, obviously. For the first six months, Snape sightings had been widespread, stories popping up in trashy tabloids each week — "I saw Severus Snape at my neighborhood market. 'He was thumping the casaba melons,' says Manchester housewitch." With such compelling eyewitness reports as that, it was no wonder that no one took the rumors seriously, and eventually the speculation died down.

In the end, it turned out they were right ... just not about the melons. Hermione had asked at some point, long after she'd gotten over her initial shock at seeing a dead man looking surprisingly alive and well and heading the Potions department. Severus had insisted that he abhorred melon, casaba in particular.

It wasn't as if the Ministry had taken an active role in keeping his continued existence a secret. There had been no official denials, no hastily scripted statements. If anything, the Ministry merely followed the wishes of a known war hero who wanted nothing more than to disappear and simply remained mum on the matter, while quietly offering him a job guaranteed to keep him out of the public eye. 

Not that being out of the spotlight had managed to sweeten his disposition at all. 

Hermione watched as Severus looked around the mess just long enough to spot her, then bypassed the food line entirely to stalk directly toward her table.

"I'm going to hunt that infernal woman down and rip off her wings myself," Severus snarled through clenched teeth as he scraped the chair directly opposite her across the tile and then dropped his weight into it. 

"Why, yes, I have had a pleasant day so far, thank you for asking, Mr. Snape. And you?" Hermione flipped the folder containing her reports closed and leaned back in her chair to smile at the glowering man across from her. 

"Pardon me, Miss Granger. I trust your day has been well? The weather is a bit blustery, but that's nothing unusual for this time of year. Any other mundane topics we need to cover before you allow me to get back to what I was saying?" 

Her smile widened into a grin. Hermione fluttered one hand at him. "Please, don't let me keep you from your chosen topic. Continue."

Severus reached into his bulky winter coat, pulled out a hardback book and tossed it onto the table hard enough that it slid across the surface until it came to rest against her plate. "I found that _thing_ on my desk just a bit ago." He finished unbuttoning his coat and shrugged it from his shoulders, letting it hang off the back of his chair.

Judging from his tone, Hermione had been expecting something a bit more vile than a simple book. With one finger, she cautiously rotated it until the photo on the back of the dust jacket was right side up for her.

"Rita Skeeter. She's written another one, then? Who is the poor bastard this time?" Not that she would ever admit it, but Hermione actually owned all three of Skeeter's earlier biographies. If you read between the lines and dismissed most of the sensationalism, they were actually almost informative. And, when Hermione had nothing better to do than crawl into bed with some mind-numbing tripe, Skeeter's books had more than fit the bill, particularly the eight hundred–plus pages of fiction masquerading as facts about Harry. Hermione had been by Harry's side for most of seven years, yet she had somehow managed to miss the majority of his dark despair and scandalous trysts - including, oddly enough, the entirety of the affair between herself, Harry and Ron. Hermione had been surprised to learn that instead of spending most of a year hiding from Death Eaters and searching out Horcruxes, she had spent months in a luxurious cabin servicing the manly appetites of two handsome wizards. 

Now that she'd determined that the book wouldn't actually bite her, Hermione flipped it over to examine the cover. "Oh, Mr. Snape, I'm so sorry."

A lurid font proclaimed _Snape: Scoundrel or Saint?_ in bold type, and just below was a photo of Severus in his teaching robes, a scowl marring his features. She tilted her head to the left and then toward the right, examining book Severus from different angles. Book Severus narrowed his eyes into a glare for a moment, then lifted his chin as if to look down his considerable nose at her. His lips twisted into the beginnings of a smirk.

"At least it's a decent picture. In the right light, you've got that 'dark and brooding' thing going for you." Hermione looked up at the real Severus, just in time to catch a hint of some unknown emotion cross his face before he turned to glare at the occupants of the next table over. 

"I wouldn't care if it was a picture of my bare arse on the bloody cover, the picture isn't the point. That _witch_ turned her poisoned quill in my direction — who knows what garbage she's penned — and some idiot thought it would be a lark to give it to me. Read the inscription."

Dutifully doing as she was told, Hermione opened the book and turned the first few pages until she found the handwritten inscription on the title page. 

"To Severus Snape - May your next several years be only half as adventuresome as Rita would have imagined them to be. 09/01/2009," she read out loud. "I don't see what's so bad about that; it's just someone wishing you happy birthday."

"Anonymously," Severus snorted. "To what possible end, other than one rooted in mischief, would anyone have to gift me _that_ anonymously."

A valid point, but one Hermione thought it might be best to overlook. She pushed her plate toward him, then reached out and snagged half of the sandwich from it. "I bet you haven't eaten lunch yet, have you? Eat. Ham and Swiss. With mustard and pickles," she added in her most enticing manner. 

He glared at her for a moment, then seemed to deflate and reached for the other half of her sandwich. "You take it. I don't want that thing in my sight a moment longer than it has to be."

Considering the way half of his sandwich disappeared on the first bite, Hermione wondered if he'd eaten any breakfast, either. She took a much smaller bite of hers, then slid the book the rest of the way across the table and under her folder of reports. "Out of sight, out of mind."

"If only it were so easy with the ignorant fool who left the book in the first place." The sharp bite had left his voice.

It seemed as if the majority of his anger had dissipated with the application of food. If only she had known it was that simple during her school years — she would have bribed the elves to make sure he was constantly supplied with snacks and sandwiches.

"It could have been worse. It could have been sent to you directly from Rita, herself. Which would have meant that she not only knew you were alive, but where to find you for that extra-special, one-on-one follow-up interview to get your reaction to her book." His pale skin took on a greenish cast with her teasing.

"I seem to remember that Rita took great pride in her _dictation_. I bet she'd love to get her hands on you. Among other things."

Severus shuddered. "Do not even joke about that woman being within fifty meters of me." 

Partway through his reply, Hermione realized she no longer held his full attention. There was no tell in his voice, no change in tempo or volume, but she could see the way he stiffened ever-so-slightly in his chair, and how his gaze seemed to be focused on a point just over her left shoulder. She doubted there was an immediate threat to their safety; even the most persistent of assassins would think twice before traveling out to St Kilda in January. Still, it never hurt to look.

Hermione dropped her paper napkin to the floor and bent down to retrieve it, casting a quick look toward whatever had drawn Severus' eye. 

They were being watched by the new hire in the Transfiguration lab.

"Very subtle, Miss Granger. I'm sure no one will have seen through such a clever ruse. Tell me, what should I expect next? A copy of the _Prophet_ with two eye holes cut out of it? Something inconspicuous, such as a giant potted Ficus to hide behind?"

She straightened and frowned, thinking out loud. "That's Enid Lynch. Just arrived last week, from what I heard. I wonder what she thinks is so interesting?" Hermione had seen the other woman in passing a few times already, noting little more than hair color (blonde) and approximate age (mid-to-late fifties).

"I should think that was obvious. She's gawking at a dead man."

Hermione rolled her eyes and tossed the wadded up napkin at him. "Someone is full of himself today, isn't he? You're not the only semi-celebrity at the table, she could be looking at me."

Severus blinked and then gave her a look that could have curdled milk. 

"Really, Mr. Snape, it's been more than ten years since you 'passed on', I very much doubt there are that many people left who would take one look at you and immediately remember the war and your part in it. If anything, she's looking at you because she's been hearing the horror stories from your lab, and she's trying to figure out if you've really got broken glass and baby's blood nestled between the bread of your sandwich."

"Don't tell me. Artemis Finch has been telling tales since - Thursday last, when I caught him running his test without using the safety shields and explained exactly what could have happened if the potion had exploded?"

Hermione shrugged and popped the last bit of her sandwich into her mouth.

“Any other news of worth I should be aware of?” Severus nudged her plate back to the middle of the table and snagged a crisp off of it. 

“I’m sure you wouldn’t find it particularly newsworthy, but my mother called last night.” Hermione took the hint and helped herself to some of her own lunch.

“Has she forgiven you for skipping the almost-yearly ‘last chance to be together as a family’ vacation, then?” 

She started, having forgotten that she’d told him of the trip and her mother’s displeasure. Hermione was certain she’d only mentioned it once, in passing, and she certainly hadn’t expected Severus to have remembered it.

“It would seem so. Although, I get the impression that she’d be much more willing to forgive and forget if I’d just settle down with a nice man and start producing some adorable grandbabies for her to spoil.”

He finished chewing slowly, giving her a contemplative look that made her slightly uneasy. “Is that what you want? To find a husband, to produce children?”

It would have been easy to blow him off with some pat answer, similar to the ones she’d given Monica the night before, but Severus looked so serious, so _interested_ in her response. “Sure, someday. It would be nice to have someone to grow old with, someone I could talk to and share interests with. I wouldn’t even mind a child or two, eventually. But I’m in no hurry, I’ve barely settled into my career and I like my job. I love the island. I’m not ready to give that up.”

“Why should you have to?” 

Her snort wasn’t terribly ladylike. “Hirta isn’t exactly teeming with eligible bachelors, or a wealth of civilian jobs, should I happen to fall into love at first sight with one of the summer volunteers or tourists.”

Severus tilted his head and looked at her with hooded eyes. She hated it when he did that; it made it nearly impossible to tell what he was thinking. Not that it was ever _easy_ to read him, even at the best of times, but Hermione thought that she had become better at it than most.

“What?”

“You’ve got mustard, there.” He gestured toward the corner of his mouth. Hermione flushed and snatched up her napkin. 

She looked up to silently ask if she was condiment-free and frowned. Severus was studying Enid Lynch once more.

-8-

It was barely a week later when Hermione was startled by the sound of someone knocking on her door.

While it wasn’t completely unheard of for someone to visit her little cottage, it was extremely rare. She saw most of her work friends at the lab during the day, or after work for an occasional drink at the pub to burn off steam. The island was too far off the beaten path for Ron or Harry to drop in unannounced.

A quick glance at the clock over the mantel told her it was past eight in the evening. There was another knock, this one slightly louder than the first, and Hermione shoved a placeholder into the copy of _Snape: Scoundrel or Saint?_ then quickly tucked the book under the pillow on her sofa.

She hoped whoever it was at the door wasn’t there on some sort of official business, because Hermione wasn’t about to change out of her flannel pajamas or her heavy woolen socks. 

A third knock began just as she reached the door, and something of her annoyance must have shown on her face because Severus Snape quickly lowered his arm and took a step back. “Is this a bad time?”

“There have been better,” Hermione admitted, thinking of the book hidden out of sight in her living room. “It’s freezing — come in, come in.” Her socks were doing nothing to keep the chill of the winter evening from creeping up the leg of her pajamas. 

Severus hesitated for a moment, then nodded once, sharply, before stepping over the threshold and into her living room. Hermione quickly shut the door behind him, rubbing her hands up and down her arms for warmth. “Did you need something?”

Hermione thought she heard him mutter something about a stiff drink, but she couldn’t be sure. He moved into the main part of the room and seemed to be heading toward the sofa, which sent her scurrying after him in a bit of a panic. 

She dived onto the sofa, settling in with the edge of the book poking into her back. Severus gave her a look that seemed to be wondering if she’d lost her mind, then set himself down on the opposite end. His back was ramrod straight, and he appeared to be perched on the edge of the cushion. If she didn’t know better, Hermione might have thought he was nervous.

“Is everything all right?” 

“What? Oh, yes. Everything is fine, fine.”

_Well, that cleared that up, didn’t it?_

“I doubt you walked all the way here through the snow just to tell me everything is fine, Mr. Snape.” Curiosity was killing her. This visit was unprecedented. Severus had never before been in her home, and she had never even seen his. 

“You’re right, I did not. There is something that I wished to discuss with you. Something that I am finding rather difficult to articulate, now that I’m here.” Instead of meeting her eyes, he was staring down at his clasped hands. 

“All right.”

They sat in silence for a bit longer, long enough for Hermione to grow uneasy. Finally, he looked up and met her concerned gaze.

“I’ve been thinking about our conversation the other day.” He must have seen her confusion, and quickly clarified. “You had just spoken with your mother, about her desire that you should find a husband soon.”

Hermione couldn’t come up with of a single logical reason why Severus should have been thinking of such a thing — what possible interest could he have in her mother’s nagging? “I remember.”

“You were correct in your assessment that you’ve got plenty of time to find a mate. You’re young and attractive. You will be in your prime for many years to come.” She blinked, surprised at the unexpected compliment. Before she could formulate a response, he continued. “I will turn fifty next year.”

“Fifty is still young for a wizard,” Hermione offered. “We live a long time.”

“It can be too long, if you’re alone. I’ve given my future careful consideration, thought about the past fifty years, and the possibilities of the next fifty. I do not wish to spend the remainder of my life alone. My somewhat lacking charms will only continue to decrease over the coming decades. If I have any hope to find a suitable companion, I must do it now.”

_Oh. Good. God._

Hermione’s throat threatened to close up.

“I - never thought you liked children?” It wasn’t really a question, but her voice rose at the end, as if it were.

“I did not like the little miscreants I was forced to deal with on a daily basis as a teacher. I’ve been told that one tends to feel differently about a child of one's own. Regardless, I have no pressing desire to be a father, nor do I have an overwhelming desire not to be.”

“I see.” She did no such thing. “And you’re telling me this because -?” Surely it couldn’t be for the reason she was beginning to think.

Severus turned to face her directly, his knee brushing against her own. “Because, Miss Granger... Hermione, I need you.”

Panic gripped her heart in a vise, then it slipped into overdrive, pounding loud enough that she could hear it.

_Are you sure it’s panic?_

It was the first time he had ever spoken her name. 

“Need me?” Why was her voice so weak?

“Oh, yes.” Why was his so deep? “You’re an intelligent, attractive woman. The type of woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. 

“I need you to help me woo Enid Lynch.”

-8-


	2. Part Two

**At the Edge of the World**

**Part Two**

Enid Lynch. 

Hermione rubbed her temples in the hope of relieving some of the pressure from a threatening headache. She didn’t have time to deal with a headache — she had work to finish before she could leave for the evening, and she had agreed to meet Severus to discuss his request from the night before.

The one where he asked her to help him figure out how to court Enid Lynch. The completely insane request that she had somehow ended up agreeing to consider. 

As if she would know what sorts of things would attract another woman. She had told him as much, still utterly gobsmacked and barely able to form a coherent – if shrill – sentence. “I have every faith in you,” he replied. 

And then he had done something so sneaky, so underhanded, so Slytherin...

He had thanked her for listening to him and said that if she would at least think about what he’d asked, he would be most grateful. Then he had reached out to grasp one of her hands and gently squeeze it, said her name in that smooth voice of his, and told her that he hadn’t had many friendships in his life, but he liked to think that he could call her "friend." He had looked so sincere and, for just the tiniest moment, vulnerable. 

Her agreement to consider it came tumbling from her lips before she even realized what she was saying. Severus, being Severus, had seized upon the small victory, said goodnight and disappeared out the door before Hermione could find a way to backtrack.

"I got played, plain and simple," she muttered under her breath as she tidied up her desk for the night. 

Even knowing it was probably just a ruse designed to play on her soft heart, Hermione knew she wouldn't tell him she had changed her mind. 

She had always been a sucker for a pair of sad eyes. 

Crookshanks' fluffy, flat face and deep brown-gold eyes came to mind, and Hermione smiled as she remembered her long-gone friend. He had been a good cat, sweet and affectionate in his own, cantankerous way. Loyal to his dying day, but perfectly willing to express his displeasure with a growl or a sharp swipe of his claws. Much like Severus. 

Her lips twitched as she realized that she had inadvertently compared her friend to her old familiar. "I doubt Severus Snape would be half as willing to endure a belly rub and a cuddle just to cheer me up."

"You'll never know unless you ask, Miss Granger."

Hermione started, nearly knocking her "out" basket off the top of her desk. Severus stood in the doorway of her office, looking annoyingly amused.

Embarrassment made her tone sharp. "I'm getting you a bell."

Severus merely smirked and tilted his head toward the empty lab outside her office. "Your entire staff has left for the weekend, so I thought you might be close to being done. If not, I could probably find something to keep myself busy for a bit longer."

"I thought we agreed to meet at my place in half an hour?" She stood and crossed the small room to retrieve her down coat from the hook next to the door. Severus had been carrying his own coat and began to pull it on.

"Actually, I did some thinking after I left you last night -"

"You've changed your mind?" she interrupted, relief apparent in her voice.

"No, I haven't. As I was saying, I thought it would be more practical if we convened at my cottage this evening."

Curiosity warred with the desire to try to alleviate some of what was sure to be an awkward evening with the comfort of her own, familiar home.

"I will, of course, be willing to provide dinner if you will agree to the change in venue."

_Satisfy your curiosity, get a free meal, listen to him for a bit, and then tell him no. What can it hurt?_

"You cook?" Hermione asked with an obvious tone of disbelief as they made their way through the mostly deserted building. 

"It may have escaped your notice, Miss Granger, but Hirta is not known for its four-star restaurants. Yes, I cook, as I had no desire to live off of pot noodles and crisps for the past decade."

Severus' cottage was located on the outskirts of the community, the farthest residential building from the center of the complex. Hermione suspected that had been a deliberate choice on someone's part. The wind and bracing cold had made conversation impossible during the fifteen-minute walk. By the time that Severus had opened his front door and ushered her in, Hermione felt as if she were nearly frozen. 

His cottage was a twin to hers, architecturally speaking. They shared the same floor plan, as did almost all of the one-bedroom residences, but that was where the similarities ended. She favored dark colors and lots of shelving for her books and photos. Severus' living room was filled with comfortable-looking seating, lots of light and a fireplace that sprang to life the minute they walked through the door. He had bookshelves of his own, but they weren't the focal point of the space. 

There was also the most delicious aroma in the air.

She sniffed appreciatively as Severus hung up her coat. "What smells so good?"

"Pot noodles and crisps," he deadpanned. 

Dinner was actually a succulent roast with new potatoes, onions and carrots, followed by coffee in the living room. She was still cradling the warm mug between her hands, trying to come up with the best way to tell him that she wasn't going to help him, when Severus stood and held out his hand toward her. 

"It's time to start."

Hermione looked from his hand to his face. "Start what?"

Severus smirked and offered his hand once more. "The time to back out would have been _before_ you ate the dinner I so diligently prepared, Hermione."

_Damn it._ He was getting far too good at that, using her name at just the right moment to throw her off. 

She set her mug on the coffee table and reached for his hand. "I have no idea what you're talking about, _Severus_." 

His name was barely past her lips before Severus hauled her off the couch with enough force that Hermione ended up momentarily plastered against his chest. She regained her footing and glared at him. "What was that?"

Severus released her and took a step back, his expression suspiciously blank. "I apologize. I must have miscalculated the amount of effort required to move you. This way."

Hermione stared after his retreating form for a moment, speechless, then hurried to catch up. "Did you just imply that you thought I was fat?" She realized where they were before he had a chance to formulate a response. "Why are we in your bedroom, Mr. Snape?"

He continued across the room, walking around the large bed that dominated most of the floor space and completely ignoring her first question. Severus pulled open the closet door. "Have a seat. This could take awhile."

The only seating option in the room was the bed. 

Any other man and Hermione would have assumed they were up to something, the entire "courting of Enid Lynch" nonsense notwithstanding, but this was Snape. Still, when she did lower herself to perch on the edge of the mattress, there was barely an inch of her rear in actual contact with the duvet. One wrong step in her direction and she would be off the bed and ready to lay down some ground rules in a heartbeat.

_Get over yourself._

She did feel a tad ridiculous when Severus turned to say something and ended up smirking at her careful balancing act, but he kept his thoughts to himself on the matter.

"You still haven't told me what it is we're doing in here."

"I would have thought that was self-evident. I'm obviously attempting to seduce you -" Shock kept her immobile, fingers digging into the bedcover while her brain debated fight or flight, run or react. Severus stepped into his closet, then came out carrying several shirts, which he placed on the bed next to her. "By luring you into my boudoir to ask for your opinion of my wardrobe. Isn't that how all the great Lotharios began? By offering themselves up for 'honest criticism' and ridicule?" He continued to pull more clothing out of the closet.

_I am not disappointed. I'm not._

"You want my opinion on how you dress? Why?"

She heard the sound of hangers returning to a bar, deep in the closet, and then Severus reappeared, empty-handed. He leaned against the bedroom wall. "I am not unaware that my ... style has remained virtually unchanged for the past several decades, and that I was not what one would call 'fashionable' even then. Fabrics and colors that served me well during my tenure at Hogwarts are not exactly eye-catching or attractive to the opposite sex."

"I wouldn't have said 'unchanged.' I haven't seen a single frock coat since I arrived on the island," Hermione teased. 

"I'm delighted that you find this so amusing." He sounded anything but. "However, your amusement is only illustrating my point. I want the witch that I desire to find me desirable in return, Hermione."

"I wish you would stop doing that." Hermione mentally berated herself for letting that slip out. Especially when Severus arched his brow inquisitively.

"Doing what?"

She would rather pull out her own teeth than admit that the way he said her name could make her stomach tighten and tingle in a not-completely-unpleasant manner. "Stop putting yourself down like that. Don't deny it," Hermione rushed to cut him off, seeing the mutinous expression on his face. "Ron used to do the same thing, put himself down all the time, until I realized he was doing it so that his friends would rush in and tell him how great he was."

Severus looked aghast at being compared to Ron Weasley, as well he should. "That is not - I would never -"

"I don't think I've ever seen you at a loss for words before." Hermione made herself comfortable on the bed, drawing one leg up under the other, but careful to keep her shoe off of Severus' bedding. "I'm sure that wasn't your intent," she offered, generously. 

Her fingers toyed with the material of his shirts, and Hermione realized that contrary to what she would have assumed - if she had bothered to really consider the matter before now - they were rather soft, and not all of them were black or white. There were greens and blues, and even one dark shade that could have passed for eggplant in the right light.

"Look, do you want someone to like you because of your clothes, or because of you?"

There was still a trace of annoyance in his face, but he continued to lean casually against the wall. "What I would prefer is for someone to - to use your rather simplistic word choice - to 'like' me. Period. Nearly fifty years of being myself has netted me two psychotic overlords, a plethora of deranged and/or narcissistic associates and an appalling lack of long-term romantic entanglements. I don't see anything wrong with attempting to stack the deck in my favor at this stage of the game." 

She lifted the sleeve of one of the shirts up and smiled. "I think you already have, at least a bit. I wasn't kidding about the frock coat. Well, I was, but I was serious, too. The Severus Snape I remember from Hogwarts wouldn't have been caught without his full armor, much less be seen wearing something as scandalous as purple."

"It's aubergine." 

"It's nice." Hermione looked at him, really looked at him. "I think you're fine just the way you are. Any woman should be proud to be associated with you." She felt it would be best if she didn't voice the rest of that thought - that if Enid Lynch couldn't be happy with Severus as is, she didn't deserve him.

Severus looked as if he didn't believe her. "You can't honestly expect me to believe there isn't anything about me that you would wish changed, if given the chance."

"If someone had asked me that fifteen or twenty years ago," she snorted. "Then you were the great bat in the dungeons, and you could intimidate the living heck out of me. You were quite often rude, almost always abrasive and I don't think I remember ever seeing you smile. Really smile, not that sneering thing you used to do whenever Malfoy or Parkinson managed to answer a question without resorting to sticking their noses too far up your bum."

Hermione stopped playing with his shirts and offered him a soft smile of her own. "You're different now. Don't get me wrong, you're not Mister Perfect, but you smile once in awhile, and I'm pretty sure I even heard you laugh last month when Mortimer managed to hit me with that botched charm."

She thought his lips twitched upward, ever so slightly. "You were a most unflattering shade of puce until well after lunch, if I remember correctly," Severus offered.

"It was a horrid color," she conceded. "My point is, if you were to suddenly start wearing bright colors and the latest styles, or offered toothy smiles and casual compliments, you wouldn't really be you."

Looking at him, standing there as he listened to her speak, Hermione realized just how badly he seemed to want companionship. If there truly was anything she could do to help him find it, it would be selfish of her not to try.

"If you're still set on dating, don't try to change yourself. That will only end in disaster because eventually you'll just end up reverting back to the Severus Snape we've all come to know and - tolerate.

"Instead, we'll focus on other things. Date ideas, topics to avoid over dinner, certain opinions you might want to hold off on expressing until at least the second date, things like that."

There was silence for a moment, then Severus pushed away from the wall. "You're the woman, and in this case that makes you far more knowledgeable than myself. Until Saturday next, then?"

"What's the 24th?"

"You and I are going on a date, Miss Granger."

-8-

As dates go, Hermione had been on better.

_Well, one that was better._

She smiled at the memory of that first, perfect _real_ date with Ron. The war was over, the Wizarding World had been saved, and suddenly Hermione and Ron were just two teenagers, newly in love. He had waited weeks to ask her out; she had begun to worry that he'd never work up the nerve. She had bought a new dress for the evening, and he'd shown up in a suit borrowed from one of his brothers. The restaurant had been overpriced, the food mostly tasteless. They got caught in the rain on the walk home, and she'd been shivering so hard she thought her teeth might crack by the time Ron took her hand and pulled her close enough to press his lips against hers. Hermione could have walked on air when she finally said goodnight and disappeared into her parents' house. Ron had tried so hard to orchestrate the perfect evening to impress her, too hard, and all Hermione had needed to make it the most perfect night of her young life was to be in his arms.

_All right, the best **and** the worst date I'd ever been on, simultaneously._

Her afternoon with Severus been nothing like that first date with Ron.

The plan had been that Severus would handle the details, organize the entire thing as if he were planning a real date, and afterward Hermione would offer her critique. 

She hadn't expected that he would actually want her to spend the afternoon with him.

She hadn't expected that she would want to.

Severus had arrived in the middle of the afternoon and refused to tell her what they were doing, merely urging her to bundle up for the cold and snow. When they stepped out her front door and Severus wrapped his arms around her, Hermione thought she detected a trace of warmth that had nothing to do with her coat, scarf, cap and gloves, and everything to do with him.

She didn't know which was more unsettling, the Side-Along Apparition or the unexpected, tingling warmth.

He had brought them to the water, near a snow-encrusted outcropping of rocks that overlooked the ocean. They had stood in silence for several long moments, marveling in the raw beauty of untouched nature. 

Before the chill had a chance to become too overwhelming, Severus led her to a large, flat, weather-worn rock. He unsheathed his wand and, with a determined word, blew the light covering of snow from its surface. A flannel blanket had been produced, along with a basket of food and a Thermos of hot cocoa. 

Hermione liked that he'd asked her to cast the charms necessary to keep them warm, saying that he wished to defer to her expertise even though she knew full well that he was more than capable of doing an adequate job of it himself. She thought he scowled, just a bit, when she told him so, pointing out that Enid would probably appreciate similar sincere flattery over trite compliments about her appearance or some other nonsense.

After that, there had been a long, nearly uncomfortable silence as they nibbled on the finger foods Severus had packed and watched the waves beat against the rocky shore far below where they sat. Hermione had wondered what she could have said to offend him so. 

Eventually, he spoke, gesturing toward a door-shaped opening high in the rocks. "What do you know of the Mistress Stone, Miss Granger?"

She had been ashamed to realize that even after six years on Hirta, she had never bothered to visit the local landmark. "Not much, really. I've heard of it, but I don't think I even know how it got its name."

Severus had smirked then, turning to face her briefly. There had been a hint of amusement in his face, a warmth in his eyes that had made her catch her breath. "If only we had a witness so that I could have proof that my little know-it-all doesn't actually know everything." 

It was the shock of being called _his_ anything that kept her from immediately protesting the annoying nickname, and by the time she'd found her voice, he had returned to contemplating the rocks.

"From what I understand, there was an old custom amongst the people who used to live on St Kilda. When a young couple wished to marry, the man - for it is almost always the male who ends up doing something rash and dangerous in these sorts of stories, is it not? The young man would come out to this place, and climb out onto the rocks to stand in that opening. He would balance precariously on one leg, with most of his body hanging out over the gully below, in order to prove himself worthy of the affection of his lady love, his mistress."

Severus had turned to meet her eye once more. "Hence the name, I'm sure."

"Well, that seems a bit reckless. I would think it would be difficult to get married if you've plummeted to your death."

"It would put a damper on the engagement, yes." He'd given her one of his Snape smirks, and Hermione had laughed in reply. The earlier awkwardness disappeared as if it had never been, and the rest of the afternoon had passed in pleasant conversation and amusing anecdotes until there was no more cocoa left in the Thermos and Hermione's warming charms were threatening to fail.

As they had packed away their trash, Severus had asked her if his "date" had passed the test. 

"Definitely earned an 'O.' Have you thought about how you're going to approach her?"

Severus had stared at her for a moment, his expression oddly blank. "What do you mean?" 

"You can't just _tell_ someone that they are going on a date with you." Hermione ignored his grumbled "It worked well enough with you."

"You said you wanted my advice on how to get the girl. Do you want my help or not?"

His lips had twisted into his familiar scowl, but Hermione thought she saw a hint of mischief behind his eyes and in the tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Please, Professor Granger, continue with your lesson."

"Fine, Mister Smartypants. Show me what you're going to do. Ask me out. And don't half-arse it, either. Make it good."

He'd reached for one of her hands, gently pulling her glove from her fingers. "As you pointed out, it would be unwise to simply make my intentions known without first making the effort to see if my advances might be welcome. I would want to attempt to nurture a - friendship between her and myself. If we could not be friends, then how could I ever hope that we would be happy with anything more?"

Her hand had been grasped between both of his, warm and firm. "Then, once I had reason to believe that she could find me as appealing as I find everything about her ... I would take her hand, like so, and look into her eyes." She'd actually held her breath as Severus leaned forward and compelled her to meet his gaze. 

"There are those who might think that I have a way with words, that I always know exactly what to say, but not now, not in this instance. You - the thought of spending time with you, of getting closer to you, it can strip me of those words. What I would like to say, were I able, is that I would be honored if you would join me for dinner, grant me a chance to enchant you, as you have enchanted me."

It had been too cold to melt into a puddle, but Hermione had thought it to be a near thing. Then he spoiled the moment by releasing her hand and smirking. "Well? What do you think? Too flowery?"

The next few weeks seemed no different than the last few years - on the surface - but to Hermione there was something off, something that she just couldn't put her finger on at first.

They continued to meet for lunch several times a week. They had even been joined by Enid Lynch four or five times. Her presence unsettled Hermione. 

There was nothing wrong with the older woman; she seemed nice enough. Intelligent. Attractive, but not so pretty as to make an average girl feel inferior. 

Watching Enid and Severus talk over chicken and Yorkshire pudding in the mess tended to make Hermione's stomach feel like it was full of rocks. It wasn't that they excluded her from their conversations — to the contrary, they both made a point to ask her a question if she was quiet.

It wasn't long before Hermione realized that she didn't want to share what she considered "their time," didn't like the how Severus looked at Enid when she said something witty, didn't want to think of what his new friendship would lead to.

Hermione was jealous.

"Hermione? Hello, Earth to Hermione. Sorry to interrupt, but I've finished documenting the Lyndgrove experiment. Did you need me to do anything else before I took off?"

Aware that she'd just been caught woolgathering, Hermione looked up to greet one of her staff, flicking her gaze toward the desk clock to see just how long she'd been off in her own little world. "That should be it, Mortimer. In a hurry to start your weekend?"

"Oh yes. Megan from Human Resources said she'd meet me for dinner tonight, if I promised her a dance at the party tomorrow. You going to be there?" 

She opened her mouth to tell him no, that a Valentine dance really wasn't her cup of tea, and froze. 

_Severus will be there._

_With Enid._

_Yes, but not **with** Enid. Not yet._

"I might pop in for a bit, just to say hello to everyone outside the labs. If I don't see you, have a good time tomorrow night."

"You too, Hermione!" The gangly lab assistant disappeared from view, and Hermione hurried to pack up her things and follow suit.

-8-

Someone had outdone themselves.

The mess had been transformed into an obscene confection in shades of white, pink, red and purple that would have rivaled Albus Dumbledore's most sugar-coated dream.

Hermione quickly shrugged out of her coat before she could change her mind. She carefully hung it up next to the door, running her hands over her hair. A grimace crossed her lips as her fingers encountered wind-tossed, fly-away curls instead of the carefully crafted chignon that she had left the house with.

At least she managed to keep from falling into a snowbank on the way to the party. Someone had thoughtfully cleared the paths in the complex of most of the snow, but Hermione's heels were not really meant to provide adequate traction on a frozen pathway.

They did make her calves look fabulous, though. 

That thought cheered her and wiped the scowl from her face.

It took a few moments to find Severus, hidden, predictably, in the corner farthest from the dance floor. He was seated at a small table with his back to the door. The silk of her dress brushed against her legs as she made her way through the packed room. Mortimer stopped her once to introduce her to his date from Human Resources, and Hermione waved to several others as she ducked between bodies.

She was nearly upon Severus when she saw who was with him. 

Enid looked radiant. Her blond hair was up in some sort of complicated arrangement that Hermione would have never been able to manage, and it seemed to sparkle under the soft lighting. Enid's makeup was flawless, and her dress - what Hermione could see of it - was extremely flattering to the older woman's figure and coloring.

It was almost enough to drive a woman to drink.

_An excellent idea._

Hermione detoured to the bar that had been set up for the evening and asked for something fruity that packed a punch. Chilled glass in hand, complete with a little wooden wand skewering a maraschino cherry and an orange wedge, she finally made her way to their table.

"Is there room for one more?"

Enid smiled broadly, immediately agreeing, and Hermione felt a twinge of guilt for wanting to dislike the other woman.

She really was a nice person.

_Too nice? Perhaps she's hiding some horrid character flaw._

_And perhaps you're grasping at straws._

Hermione took a huge sip of her drink and settled into the seat that Severus had pulled out for her. He returned to his own, and there was a moment of awkward silence.

Hermione drank some more.

Enid broke first. "I was just asking Severus what drew him out here to St Kilda in the first place."

That earned a raised eyebrow from Hermione. "And what did he say?"

Enid began, "He said -" but was interrupted by Severus. 

"I said I was looking for somewhere that I belonged. I was looking for a home."

Hermione turned to face him fully, her head tilted to the side inquisitively. "Did you find it?"

He met her eyes with his own and for a moment Hermione could have believed he was talking to her, and her alone. "I think I have now."

Before she could swallow around her suddenly dry throat, he had turned and smiled at Enid, asking her what she thought of the islands. Hermione didn't hear the other woman's answer; she was too busy draining the last of the liquid from her glass.

The small talk continued, and Hermione eventually found herself drawn into it. She even laughed several times when Enid shared some of the horror stories from her prior job. At one point Severus disappeared to fetch refills for all three of them. By the time he reappeared with drinks and a plate of finger sandwiches, the earlier tension had vanished.

Until the music switched to a particularly upbeat and catchy love song. Enid's eyes grew wide with excitement and she stood. "Oh, I love this one. Severus, will you dance with me?" 

For some strange reason, Hermione had expected him to say no. As she watched them merge onto the dance floor, she couldn't help calling herself a fool.

Her glass was empty by the time they returned, and Hermione's head felt a bit wobbly. Fully aware of her limitations when it came to alcohol, and equally aware of the fact that she'd already passed them, Hermione wisely decided to stick to water for the rest of the evening. 

_I should just pack it up and go home._

Severus tapped the back of her hand with his finger, and she quickly looked up.

"Are you feeling all right?"

She forced a smile to her lips. "Peachy. Perhaps a bit much to drink, but these things are so tasty." She finally realized the third chair at their table was empty. "Where did Enid go?"

"She said she wished to freshen up. Would you care to dance?"

Her instincts told her to say no. Her mind fairly screamed "Warning! Red Alert!" at her. And her rebellious lips very clearly said "I would love to."

Which is how she found herself on the edge of the dance floor, wrapped rather closely in Severus' embrace, swaying to some slow tune that Hermione barely even heard. The urge to rest her cheek against his chest was strong. She hoped talking might make it easier to clear her head, so she leaned back to look up at him.

"She calls you Severus."

"She does."

"You let her. You don't let people call you by your first name."

"I allow you." He said it as if it should explain everything.

"No, you don't. Not really. We've been friends for years now, and a majority of the time you call me Miss Granger and I call you Mr. Snape. We only use first names when we're trying to get a reaction out of each other."

He turned them, using the momentum to pull her closer. "Why is that, do you think?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking." Hermione adjusted her hands, resting them against his chest. "Would you really let me call you Severus on a day-to-day basis? It wouldn't seem - weird to you?"

He smirked down at her, and Hermione thought she felt his fingers flex against her waist. "I admit it might seem odd at first, coming from your lips when I've learned to anticipate the usual tart - and often mocking - 'Mr. Snape' from you."

She smiled back, unable to help herself.

"No one else would dare to tease me as you do, Miss Granger."

Hermione finally gave in to the urge and closed the small amount of distance between them to rest her head against his chest. "Blame my youth; it gave me an appetite for danger, and other than Mortimer in my lab, you are the most dangerous thing on the island."

His chest rumbled beneath her ear, and Hermione realized he was quietly laughing.

Far too soon, the song ended, and Hermione took a reluctant step back. Then another, until they were no longer touching.

Enid was waiting at the table, drink refills in hand. "I saw you had gone empty."

Hermione tried to find some hint of jealousy in Enid's face, but could detect nothing of the kind. As a matter of fact, she almost appeared to be glowing.

Severus held out a chair for each of them.

"I want to propose a toast." Enid held her glass of wine up, leaving Hermione no choice but to follow suit or look somewhat petulant. "To friendships, and new beginnings."

"Hear, hear." 

She quickly echoed Severus' smooth baritone, then politely took a sip of her drink. 

"And with that, I'm afraid I'm going to have to call it a night. You two enjoy the rest of the party. I'll see you both Monday for lunch?"

Hermione nearly choked when the fruity iced alcohol went down the wrong way. She hadn't been expecting Enid to stand up and say goodnight out of the blue like that. "You're leaving?" she coughed.

"Oh yes, I've got to be in the lab in the morning, and I'm expecting a phone call tonight so I really need to get back to my place."

Then she was gone, leaving Severus and Hermione alone in a room full of revelers and tacky heart decorations.

"I - I thought you two - Didn't you come together?"

Severus shook his head and set his glass down on the table. "No."

"But, you arranged to meet her, then?"

"Again, no, Miss Granger. I admit that I suspected she would be here, but I did not know for certain until I arrived and saw her."

Things were not adding up the way they should, not in her slightly drink-muddled mind, at least. Perhaps if she were completely sober, it would all make sense, but for now, Hermione felt like there was clearly a missing piece to the puzzle.

"So, why did you come then?"

"Sometimes, you just have to take a chance." He reached over and took her mostly full glass out of her hand. "I think I'm just about done celebrating for the evening. What about you?"

If Severus was leaving, there wasn't really a reason for her to stay. "I'll probably head home myself."

He stood and offered his hand to assist her out of her chair. "I'll walk you home."

The feel of his fingers, warm against her palm, made her breath hitch. "You really don't have to, you live on the other side of the complex from me, it would be completely out of your way."

"I must insist, Miss Granger. It's dark, the paths are slick, and I refuse to take no for an answer. I will see you safely to your door."

-8-


	3. Part Three

**At the Edge of the World**

**Part Three**

Hermione stepped into her living room, unsteady on her heels now that Severus no longer had his arm around her waist for support. She turned, fully intending to politely offer her thanks and to wish him a good night before locking the door and crawling into bed for a good, alcohol-fueled mope, only to find herself nose to masculine chin as he followed her into the house.

She heard the door close behind him and blinked, finally pulling her fascinated gaze from the hint of dark stubble lining Severus' jaw upward to search the rest of his face.

"You've done your duty. I'm home, safe and sound. Not a single shadowy bandit or even a rogue Soay sheep to report. You can go back to the party now; Enid may have changed her mind and returned," Hermione offered in what she thought was a rather friendly and not at all despondent tone.

"Enid is beginning a new experiment tomorrow and will be in her lab in less than four hours, and I have spent more than enough time _being festive_ for one day. For the entire month, for that matter."

He reached between them and began to unfasten Hermione's down coat. She felt her breath turn into something solid in her lungs as she stood, motionless, and let Severus nudge the loosened garment off her shoulders.

"A little help, please." He nodded when Hermione obediently pulled her arms free. "That's a good girl."

"I am not a girl," came the immediate reply. Hermione wished she had held her tongue when he stepped past her to drape her coat across the arm of the nearby sofa.

Severus gave her a long, intense look that her intoxicated mind couldn't quite identify, and began to unbutton his own coat. "No, definitely not a girl. Not for years now."

"Are you planning on making yourself at home?" The question ended on a shrill note that Hermione hoped he would blame on too much wine.

He carefully folded his coat and placed it atop hers. "I plan on verifying that you have the proper supplies on hand to deal with the headache you'll undoubtedly have in the morning, and to make certain that you get settled in for the night without incident."

Severus returned to her side and began to lead her down the hall toward her bedroom, pausing just outside the doorway. "You get ready for bed, and I'll check on you in a few minutes to make sure you're all tucked in before I leave. Go on, Hermione."

She allowed him to nudge her into the other room without protest, wondering at what point, exactly, her life had become an episode of The Twilight Zone.

There she was, sitting on the edge of her bed, wearing her favorite "notice me" dress and those ridiculously inappropriate shoes, while the very man she had hoped to entice was here in her home ... and instead of seducing him, Hermione was trying to decide if she should change into the flannel pajamas with the yellow duckies or the ones with the grinning leprechauns so that he could put her to bed like a child.

_You don't want him to put you to bed, you want him to **take** you to bed. You don't want Severus to tuck you in, you want him to **fu** -_

"Duckies!" Her inner monologue was cut off as quickly as possible.

"What was that?" Severus called from down the hall.

"Nothing." Hermione buried her face in her hands with a groan.

The sad fact of the matter was that while she had recently discovered that she had feelings for Severus, he was set on wooing another. Hermione just wasn't the sort of woman who would purposely steal another woman's man.

Unless...

_Unless he doesn't love Enid. Severus has always been extremely practical. Not once, in all the time we've discussed Enid and his attempts at courtship, has Severus ever mentioned love. He's never even mentioned being overly attracted to her._

_If it's not a love match, but one based on practicalities rather than passions, then would it really be such a horrid thing if I were to make my feelings known?_

_Think, Hermione. Just because Severus hasn't told **you** of his feelings for her, doesn't mean there are none to speak of. He's always been a private man._

The faint glimmer of hope that had barely begun to form in her heart dissipated, and Hermione realized she was a maudlin drunk. 

With a sigh, she leaned over to loosen the delicate straps of her heels and promptly felt light-headed. She took a deep breath and held it, clumsy fingers plucking ineffectually at the clasp until Hermione felt that she might pass out.

"I had expected that you would be in bed and asleep by now." 

Sitting up made the room spin. 

Severus was standing in the doorway, arms folded across his chest. Hermione thought he looked slightly disapproving. She shifted, lifting her leg and turning her foot so that he could see the small buckle on her ankle. "Shoes."

"Shoes?"

The last time she had felt this idiotic, Hermione had still been a schoolgirl. "I can't seem to be able to get out of my shoes."

She had fully expected him to laugh at her, or to tell her that she'd just have to figure it out in the morning, but he did neither. Instead, she watched, frozen in place and unwilling to move away, as he crossed the room to gracefully fall to his knees at her feet. His head tipped downward, face hidden behind a veil of glossy black hair, when he reached for one of her heels.

For a moment, the only thing that Hermione could hear was the sound of her own gasping breath, nearly silent and yet as loud as the waves that continually crash against the cliffs of Conachair to her. Severus worked in silence, long fingers gently working the strap loose from the clasp. He cradled her ankle in the palm of his hand as he slowly slid the heeled shoe off, then lowered her foot to rest against his thigh. 

Hermione looked down at her painted toes, a bright red that was at odds with the paleness of her skin and the black of his trousers. Her toes flexed under her watchful eye, pressing against firm muscle, and she thought she saw his hands falter slightly when they reached for her other foot. _Surely I imagined it._

"Why her?" 

It took Hermione a moment to realize the voice that had split the silence had been her own, a moment longer for the words she'd used to register in her mind. 

"Who?" His tone was casual and smooth, and she knew he knew exactly whom she meant. 

"Why Enid?"

His hands stilled, hot against her skin, head still tilted down so that she could not see his face, could not see his eyes. "Why not?"

Hermione wanted to jerk her foot free. She wanted to shake him, to grasp a handful of his hair and force him to look at her. "That's not a real answer."

Severus' fingers began to move again, slower than before, softer. "Would you have preferred me to say that I realized I was coming to the lab early every day in the hopes of catching a glimpse of her before the workday started? That the thought of talking with her over a cup of coffee was enough to make me look forward to pausing my experiments for lunch, a meal I simply tolerated until I could return to my work before her? That I thought my heart might implode the first time I heard my given name slip past her lips? That I had nearly given up hope that she might ever come to care for me the way I have grown to care for her, and yet I find myself willing to do the most ridiculous things in some misguided effort to win her affections?"

She caught a glimpse of dark eyes intently watching her through the curtain of hair, and Hermione felt her heart thud, heavy in her chest. _Not Enid. It was never Enid._

"Oh. Oh, Severus." Her hand reached out and softly touched his hair.

He seemed to tilt his head toward her touch for just a moment, then he pulled back, finally looking up at her with a face that was carefully blank. Her shoe came free in his hand. Severus moved both of her feet to the ground and stood. "I trust you can handle the rest on your own."

Severus was at the doorway before Hermione found her voice. "Wait! Don't you ... Stay. Please?"

Both of his hands curled into fists, and she thought he was about to return to her, then Severus straightened to his full height. "You're drunk."

Then he was gone. She heard her front door quietly open and close and knew she was alone.

-8-

Sunday passed uneventfully, without a word from Severus, much to Hermione’s relief. She had needed the quiet solitude to think, and by Monday morning she knew what to do.

Unless she was horrifically mistaken, the entire Enid Lynch business must have been a ruse. Severus hadn’t actually admitted that he had been talking about Hermione on Saturday night, the possibility that he truly was infatuated with Enid – however small – did exist, but Hermione felt it was worth the risk.

She was going to woo Severus Snape.

Monday dawned bright and clear. The first hour at work was spent checking in with her staff, making sure all of their projects were still on track. Then she gathered up her various progress reports and notes, and hurried off to the conference room for the weekly meeting of department heads.

Severus slid into the chair next to hers mere moments before Herbert West, the head of the facility, called the meeting to order. 

Hermione waited until their boss began to speak, then nudged the spare mug of coffee that she’d brought toward Severus’ hand, keeping her gaze firmly locked on West at the head of the table.

Severus quietly mumbled his thanks, and she watched him reach for the mug out of the corner of her eye. 

“My pleasure, Severus.”

She saw the mug still halfway to his mouth before slowly continuing on. Hermione was positive that he spent most of the meeting watching her. 

As much as she would have liked to talk with him after the meeting, she didn’t get the chance. West called to her as she stood and asked to walk her back to her lab since he had a few questions about the Lyndgrove experiment.

Lunch couldn’t come soon enough. Hermione eagerly arrived at the mess hall, and was only slightly disappointed not to see Severus there. He rarely managed to beat her there, after all.

A roast beef sandwich easily large enough to share was chosen and purchased, and then Hermione settled down at a table, absentmindedly reviewing last week’s progress reports as she waited. 

Half an hour later, Severus still hadn’t arrived, and Hermione was starting to get hungry. She nibbled on a quarter of the sandwich, and began to wonder if he might be skipping lunch on purpose to avoid her.

The door blew open, but it wasn’t Severus tumbling through the doorway, surrounded by a group of chattering colleagues. It was Enid.

Hoping to avoid the other woman all together, Hermione quickly shoved all of her things together and stood, intending to finish her meal in her office.

“Hermione!”

She looked up as Enid broke away from the others and hurried across the room, grinning from ear to ear.

Hermione plastered a forced smile across her lips and offered a greeting in return.

“Oh, Hermione, you’ll never believe what happened Saturday night after the party. I was home, waiting for a call, and then he was there at the door!” Enid held up her left hand and wiggled her ring finger so that the overhead lights caused the large diamond in her ring to flash. “It was a complete surprise, but of course I said yes!” 

Her diamond engagement ring.

Saturday. After the party.

_He must have gone after he left my place. That must have been why he was in such a hurry to leave, he needed to get to her._

“Hermione?” She realized that Enid was looking at her strangely, concern clouding her earlier enthusiasm. She smiled again, and tried to summon even the smallest bit of genuine happiness for the other woman. 

“It’s beautiful. Congratulations. I’m sure you’ll both be very happy together.”

She found herself engulfed in a sweet-smelling hug, and then Enid was off to rejoin her other friends. Hermione could hear one of them asking how he had proposed, and she knew she had to get out of there before she snapped.

_How could he?_

_How could leave me thinking that he cared about me and go straight to her? How could he not know that I – that I love him?_

Hermione exited the mess and scurried down the path toward the research building, wanting to get to the privacy of her office so that she could have a short breakdown and regroup without anyone being the wiser, her lunch forgotten on the table.

There, finally, was Severus, hurrying down the narrow lane toward her. His breath was visible in the cold air. He stopped cold when he saw her.

“Merlin’s arse, where is your coat, woman? Have you gone daft?”

The sandwich wasn’t the only thing she’d left behind in her rush to escape, but Hermione didn’t want him to see how badly Enid’s news had affected her. She lifted her chin, setting it at a stubborn angle, and offered a smile that was more of a grimace.

“I hear that congratulations are in order.”

He moved closer, fingers working the buttons of his coat loose. “What are you babbling about? How long have you been out here like this? We’re going to the infirmary.” Severus pulled his coat off and draped it across her shoulders, tugging the lapels together to enfold her in its warmth.

“I’m not delirious. I just spoke to Enid. She told me about the engagement. Congratulations. You certainly wasted no time.”

He swore under his breath. “On the contrary, I’ve wasted years.” His cheeks and nose were beginning to turn pink from the chill. “If Enid is engaged, then I can only assume that Claude finally worked up the nerve to ask her.”

_Claude?_

“Who?”

“Claude would be the man that Enid has been seeing for the last ten years. From what she’s told me, he’s a decent man, widowed, with two grown children and they’ve been dancing around the idea of getting married for two years or longer.”

“Claude?”

“Claude.” 

Severus shivered and Hermione finally realized that she was wearing his coat. “You’re going to freeze.”

“If we continue to stand out here, that is a very possible outcome, yes.”

Hermione wanted to shove him. “You knew about Claude all this time, and you let me think... Why?”

“Because if I had come to you and told you that I, Severus Snape, your nasty former teacher, had fallen in love with you, you would have laughed in my face.”

She had suspected. She had hoped. 

And now she knew.

“I wouldn’t have laughed. I might have thrown up, but I wouldn’t have laughed.”

His face, the parts that weren’t red and chafed, turned deathly pale, and he straightened, pulling away from her. “I see.”

Hermione reached out with the hand that wasn’t clutching her paperwork to her chest, and grabbed a handful of his shirt, tugging him back toward her.

“I always get queasy when I’m nervous, or feel like I’m in over my head. Like now. I’m pretty sure that I love you and I am so very glad that I didn’t get a chance to eat lunch because my stomach is a roiling pit of nerves right now.”

Severus brushed a tangle of hair out of her face, and offered a small smile. “I’ve got something that might calm your stomach in my office. Do you mean it?”

“Oh, yes. I’m pretty sure if I’d actually eaten my sandwich, I’d be sick right now.”

His eyes closed briefly, lips tightening in exasperation. “I meant, did you mean it when you said that you loved me, Hermione?”

“Did you?”

“With everything I’ve done over the last few weeks to get your attention, can you doubt it? Yes, I meant it.” Both of his arms crept around her.

She stomped on his foot. “I don’t like being manipulated, Mr. Snape. Remember that in the future. Now kiss me.”

His eyes narrowed dangerously, but Severus did as she commanded. His frozen lips brushed against hers, warming quickly. As their lips parted, she stood on tiptoe to deepen the kiss further, reveling in the feel and taste of the man she loved.

-8-

“No problems at all, we made it home safe and sound, Mum.” Hermione rolled her eyes. She and Severus had barely walked through the door of their cottage when the phone rang.

“You just saw us yesterday, don’t you think it’s a bit early to start planning another visit?” She put her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone and whispered, “I knew we shouldn’t have gone to see them, now she’ll expect us _every_ holiday.”

Severus shook his head, then moved to stand behind his wife, putting his arms around her waist and pulling her back against his chest. He nuzzled his nose against the side of her neck that didn’t have the phone pressed against it, and Hermione gave up trying to give her full attention to her mother.

“Uh huh,” she agreed with whatever it was Monica Granger was saying, tilting her head to give Severus better access.

His warm lips trailed against sensitive skin, breath hot against her neck. 

“Of course, Mum, whatever you - wait, what?” Hermione jerked free from Severus’ hold. “Mum, you promised not to start in about grandchildren until we’d been married for a few years, remember? _No_ , we are not getting too old!”

She tried to offer a silent apology to her husband; he was starting to look rather grumpy. “I’ve explained this to you before - wizards live long lives. Severus is still in his prime. I think the word you’re looking for is 'virile.'”

He seemed to brighten up at that, which made Hermione smile. Then her smile disappeared as Monica continued.

“No, I am not just saying that because he’s standing right here. _**MUM**_ , no! We don’t need any of Daddy’s special blue pills!”

The End


End file.
